


The Siren

by SandyLovesDestiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 06:17:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2338205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandyLovesDestiel/pseuds/SandyLovesDestiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's encounter with a siren bothered him a whole lot more than it should have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Siren

They were on a hunt for a creature that had been terrorizing the town people by seducing them, showing up as their perfect wet dreams and telling them to kill off their loved ones just for the sake of its own twisted enjoyment. He and Sam had been frequenting bars, clubs, strip clubs,… all of the shadowy places that a person could pick up another person undetected and unnoticed and had been doing so for week after week, waiting to catch a glimpse of the person that they would deemed to be "perfect in everyway" and attacked but nothing came up.

Until one night when Dean was feeling a bit down and a bit bored and a bit drunk, he showed up.

Dressed in a long beige trench coat that was a little too big for his body with a dark blue suit underneath, he came through the door looking curious and confused and bed-rumpled and totally out of place. And Dean was struck dumb, speechless as the guy's gaze swept around the bar before coming to meet his. They were baby blue, the other man's eyes, yet deep and piercing. The color of his hair was unclear in the dim lighting of the bar but he was sure that it was a reddish brown color. He had a light stubble along his jawline, full pink, luscious lips and his cheekbones were prominent. An air of holier-than-thou surrounded him and was shown through the way he stood, tall and proud and straight-backed, a little hunched over at the shoulders but Dean didn't care about that. All he knew at that exact moment was to drop everything and get that man to go back to the motel with him.

And as he started to throw back his beer, not breaking eye contact with the man, beginning to make his way toward him, a hand was placed on his shoulder and held him back.

It was Sam.

"Dean, what are you doing?"

"What? What does it look like I'm doing? I'm getting that dude's fine ass into my bed. Don't cockblock a brother, Sammy," he groaned, turning away to continue his journey, noticing the fact that the other guy hasn't moved an inch from his previous spot but was staring back at Dean with an wide eyed expression of curiosity.  
"Dean," Sam insisted, pulling his brother back around. "He's perfect isn't he?" His brother asked, his gaze imploring.

Dean at first didn't notice the side meaning of the question and answered: "Hell yeah, he's perfect, just look at - " and then it dawned to him " - you think…?" He asked Sam, his eyes widening with revelation and his brow furrowing in displeasure. He couldn't believe that he almost fell for the creature's trick.

Sam nodded and with one look, they knew what they had to do.

Dean proceeded to rip his shoulder from Sam's grasp, looking terribly annoyed and disgruntled as he advanced toward the creature, who kept his eyes trained on Dean the whole time.

When they spoke, the creature's voice resonated in his mind just like a siren's song, calling out to him, taking all of his attention away from the rocky sea and sentencing him to his doom. Its voice was deep, warm and guttural, it was like a low, silent growl after every word and that alone made his cock harder than it should have been. And its smile, its smile burned his insides with a kind of intensity that he refused to acknowledge because it was simply impossible to feel such raw, intense, blistering emotions for someone, some thing, that he'd just met.

They went back to his and Sam's motel room and soon he was kissing it with a fervor that when Sam would later on asked about, Dean would deny it all and said that he was just a natural born actor. He was in the process of removing its clothing when Sam bursted through the door with guns in his hands and it got real bad real fast. Turns out, they didn't really need to have sex with it in order for it to turn them into its bitch. They only needed to be exposed to its venom in any way and they were screwed.

In the end, the two barely made it out alive and Dean had a major problem with what his "perfect type" was. Yet, as much as it bothered him, he never talked about it with Sam or with anyone. It wasn't a big deal, anyway, he would thought, it probably meant nothing.

That thought along with some more excuses, which got more and more creative everyday, assured him somewhat of… he didn't even know why did it bothered him so much and he didn't thought about it long enough to find out why. Maybe it was that whenever he closed his eyes, he saw the image of that dude's face and his stubbled jaw and his reddish brown hair sticking out in every direction and his stupid beige trench coat and rumpled suit. The image gave him chills everytime and it got his heart beating so damn fast he thought he was going to die some time after.

Yet, he never forgot that man's face. Never forgot the sound of his voice, the feeling of his touch, the distinctive smell of his body,…

After a while, Dean knew that until he got rid of that man's image from his memory, he was completely ruined for every other realistic, actually existing people on Earth. It was then that he thought he was totally, truly screwed over.

With so much confusion, so much frustration, so much anger in side of him all bottled up, he immediately attacked him the moment he laid eyes on the same man that he saw years ago as a siren's guise standing in his and Sammy's hotel room, figured that it was one of its kinsmen hearing the news and coming for payback. But when the knife capable of killing any creature on Earth pierced through his body and he didn't die, instead kept his calm blue eyes trained on him as he ripped the knife out of his chest and dropped it with a clang, Dean was absolutely abhorred.

He existed.

It was later on revealed to both him and his brothers that the stranger's name was Castiello and that he was an angel of the Lord and was a fully functional living, breathing, moving individual. Now, that was when Dean knew, without a doubt, that he was totally and truly screwed over.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments make my heart stops ;3 Thanks for reading you guys, hoped you liked it :)  
> I'm also on [tumblr](http://sheepishcas.tumblr.com/) :o


End file.
